Life Goes On
by robbiepoo2341
Summary: Now that Dean is back from Hell, he and Sam are racing to stay ahead of angel plots, demon deals, and everything in between. But when things get too overwhelming, the Doctor might just have to step in and help.
1. The Road So Far

**A/N: Welcome to the third book of this series! Because this is a trilogy, I wanted to first post a recap of the other two books before we hit the ground running. Consider this a sort of prologue ;)**

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**The Road So Far**

Episode One: Stranger

The Doctor and Martha meet a very sick eight-year-old Dean Winchester when he's trying to buy himself some medicine. But when a ghost shows up at the grocery store, Dean takes the lead and the Doctor has to face the facts that the supernatural might very well be real.

Episode Two: Introduction

When kids are going missing, the Doctor and Rose step up to investigate. When their investigation collides with Dean's the Doctor meets the Winchesters for the first time, and the only thing that makes him trust Dean is Rose's assertion that she's already met him.

Episode Three: Ape

As a treat after their hunt, the Doctor takes the Winchesters on a field trip. Unfortunately, that field trip leads them right into some Silurians, and Dean manages to get himself captured almost as soon as they land.

Episode Four: Angels

When the Doctor finds Dean hunting weeping angels, he's determined to keep his friend safe. But when Donna is sent back in time and the sun goes down, the two of them have to figure out a plan before they lose the light.

Episode Five: Mary

Donna is stuck in the 1970s, and she doesn't like it. When the Doctor and Dean go after her, though, they find more than they bargained for in Lawrence, Kansas, back before Mary died. The Doctor (and others) must keep Dean from trying to change his past.

Episode Six: Trust

Jack, Rose, and the Doctor just wanted a nice day out, but when they investigate some cries for help, Jack and Rose find themselves tied up and waiting to be sacrificed. When Dean and Sam track them down, they must first convince Rose and Jack that they're here to help.

Episode Seven: Alone

Sam's gone, Dad's a mess, so when Dean gets a call from his old friend Jack, of course he's willing to help. He just wasn't expecting to be vortex-ed ten years into the future into the headquarters of Torchwood!

Episode Eight: Water

Martha and the Doctor just want a nice relaxing day at the beach. The Winchester brother have the same idea. But when first Martha and then Dean go missing, it's up to the Doctor and Sam to rescue them before it's too late.

Episode Nine: Pilot

The Doctor is in a bad place, and River has asked the TARDIS to take them somewhere to cheer him up. So, the TARDIS takes them to Dean in New Orleans working a case on his own: a voodoo case that has already claimed another hunter's life.

Episode Ten: Trust Nobody

The Doctor and Rose are pretty much inseparable. So in a town of replacement lookalikes, you can better the Doctor knows which one is the real Rose. The real problem is finding her—with the help of the Winchesters, of course.

Episode Eleven: Dead Space

River seeks out Dean so she can let off some steam while she's hunting, and Dean, fresh off of his dad telling him to kill Sam, is more than happy to take her up on it. Throw in the Ponds dealing with the Doctor's death, and you've got a whole lot of emotionally unstable adventurers!

Episode Twelve: Steal Heart

The Ponds, the Winchesters, and the Doctor and River are trapped in space with the Cybermen, who have also, incidentally, captured Dean. This is not quite the way they'd all hoped to blow off steam.

Episode Thirteen: Midnight Run

Shortly after the Doctor had his voice stolen by the creature on the planet Midnight, Donna and the Doctor find the Winchester brothers on a windigo hunt. As far as cheering the Doctor up, it's not quite what Donna had in mind.

Episode Fourteen: Terror Trap

The Doctor and Clara run into the Winchester brothers investigating a haunted house. Clara is understandably wary of Dean, who was demonic the last time she saw him. Oh, and the haunted house? Might me more than just haunted.

Episode Fifteen: Extermination Omen

The Doctor and Martha meet up with the Winchesters on what they think is a ghost hunt. But when it turns out that Daleks are involved, you can throw all bets out the window.

Episode Sixteen: Dalek Deal

Dean's gone, Sam's being attacked by a hell hound, and the Doctor is being forced to help a Dalek. Yeah, things don't look so good.

Episode Seventeen: Time Eaters

With the Dalek taken care of, the Doctor, Martha, and Sam can now go in search of Dean—who, it turns out, has been hanging out with a much, much younger version of the Doctor, along with Jamie and the Brigadier.

Episode Eighteen: Ghost Story

Dean is dying, and he knows it. So a few last hurrahs won't hurt anyone, right? Yeah, that's what he thought—until the Doctor and Donna show up and problems from his past _and _his future collide.


	2. Book One: I'm Alive Again, Chapter One

**A/N: Hello everyone! I'm _ridiculously _touched by how much love this has already gotten even with just the "previously on" prologue being posted. I'm hoping that this last installment of this project lives up to all the hype I don't deserve! Much love!**

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This… this was new.

Dean was still gasping in air gratefully, but as he looked around, he had no idea what to make of his surroundings. It looked like a _bomb _had gone off, the way the trees were flat, the way everything looked like it had been blown back…

Dean couldn't think of any _good _reason for the cemetery to look like that.

Then again, he couldn't think of any _good _reason for him to even be alive.

The last thing he remembered, he'd been cutting into people in Hell. He'd been ankle-deep in misery and finding new ways to make it last, make it hurt—and then he was choking on dirt and clawing his way back up out of his _own grave_, with the memory of Hell still seared in his brain and behind his eyelids every time the dirt fell on his face.

Dean looked around the cemetery, at the evidence that something _bad _had happened, and laid his head down on the soft grass and dirt. He just wanted to breathe for five minutes. He was _tired_.

Five minutes turned into ten when no one came to bother him, though he knew he was eventually going to have to pull himself out of the grave. Someone would come looking. Someone _had _to come looking. A site like that… that was going to draw attention.

With a groan, Dean pulled himself the rest of the way up and out of the dirt, frowning as he looked down at his dirt-covered hands and clothes. It had been _years _in Hell. He should have… well, he should have been rotted by now. The clothes should have looked way worse.

Something was seriously _wrong_ here.

When Dean still didn't see anyone coming to investigate the scene, he called out a few times for help, but the whole place felt empty in a way that sent shivers down his spine.

His first thought, now that he'd gotten over the initial panic of climbing out of the grave, was that Sam had done something _stupid_. And it had to be _incredibly _stupid, too, because it seemed to Dean like Hell had him right where they wanted him. He'd been marching in lockstep to their sadistic fifes and doing everything they wanted him to do, so he didn't see any reason for them to have let him go unless Sam offered them something big. And that in itself was worrying, since Dean didn't want to think about what kind of "big" something Sam even _had _to offer when there were things like friggin' _souls _on the line.

Dean shook his head and forced himself to his feet. It was pretty obvious by now that no one was going to come help him, so he might as well get on with it. Figure out where he was, find a phone, figure out where _Sam _was, stop him from whatever _idiocy _he was up to…

_No rest for the wicked, _Dean thought to himself grimly.

And that statement had never been so true for Dean as it was at that moment.

He closed his eyes, pushing the thought to the back of his mind. He needed to focus on finding Sam. He could think about everything else he'd been through some other time. Now wasn't the time to be selfish when Sam was probably in trouble with whatever the heck he'd done to get Dean out.

He wasn't worth whatever Sam had done.

Dean was surprised as he started to take a few steps forward that he felt a little dizzier than usual, and he stopped to keep from stumbling to his knees, taking a deep breath. He had to reorient himself. Everything felt new. Different. Like he wasn't used to moving in his own body.

Then again, he _wasn't _used to moving in his own body. For one thing, he'd been in Hell for so long that this mortal body was a whole other thing. And for another thing, this didn't feel like the body he'd left behind. Dean knew he'd been a bloody mess when he died, and he knew he had a whole bunch of scars from the life of a hunter on top of that.

But now? Now, he didn't see any of that. He didn't _feel _any of the old scars. And when he knelt down in the grass to get his balance back and checked what he could see of his body… He couldn't see any scars he recognized.

What was weird was that he seemed to have a new scar that he _didn't _recognize.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath to steady himself. He didn't have time to think about how weird this was. Or wonder what kind of creature could have left him with something like _that_. He had to _focus_.

But closing his eyes was a bad idea, because the dark of his eyelids brought back a whole bunch of things he really didn't want to remember. So he opened them again quickly and then swore under his breath.

_Find a phone. Get to Sam. Deal with the rest of it later. You're probably going back to Hell anyway once you figure out what Sam did, so stop feeling sorry for yourself and get this done._

Dean took a deep breath, held it, and then got to his feet, staggering several steps across the too-flat expanse of the cemetery. There wasn't anything he could lean against or hold onto when the trees had all been blown back like they were, so it wasn't until he got further into the treeline that he could take another break, get his breath, and get going.

Every time he did that, he felt a little stronger, until he finally stumbled on a road. From there, he was able to follow it back until he could find a place that had a phone he could use.

_Find a phone. Get to Sam._

He was so focused on what he was doing that he didn't notice _who _the person was who was using the pay phone ahead of him, but when he did, he took a full step back, his eyes wide. "River?"

River Song turned his way and broke into a grin. "Just who I was looking for. Hello, Dean."

Dean shook his head. He should have thought of the possibility of some kind of Doctor-related nonsense. He supposed a few decades of torture was good enough reason not to have _space travel _on the top of his list of priorities, but then, it had been the case often enough that when something happened that Dean couldn't place on the supernatural scale, it came from the Doctor's kind of trouble. "So, what's the story?"

"Do I have to have a story to come see an old friend?" River shot back, though the teasing sparkle in her eyes said that there was, in fact, a story.

"Usually," Dean said. "And the timing is kind of suspect."

"It is, isn't it?" River asked, then tipped her head toward a nearby bus bench so the two of them could go somewhere to sit down—which Dean appreciated, though he wasn't going to say as much out loud. "I'm not going to ask you if you're alright, because that would be a waste of time," she said once they were seated.

"See, this is why we get along—you talk sense," Dean said, leaning back against the back of the bench.

The air rang with silence between them for a long moment before River spoke up again. "I know you're headed back to Sam, but I also know you just came back from the _dead_," she said.

Dean shook his head. "You know, having a time-traveling friend is a lot less fun when you realize it means they know all your secrets before you know them."

"You're preaching to the choir, my friend," River said. She watched him for a moment longer before she tapped her vortex manipulator on her wrist. "If I promise to bring you back at exactly this moment in time so you don't lose any time finding your brother, would you agree to break in your new liver with some drinks with me?"

Dean raised an eyebrow at that, smiling in spite of the serious situation. "No way could I turn that down."

"Didn't think so," River agreed with a smile before she grabbed his arm—and they were off.


	3. Book One: I'm Alive Again, Chapter Two

**Notes for Bastlase: First of all *tacklehugglomp* thank you for the very sweet review. I really appreciated that. Secondly, this book starts right at the beginning of Season 4 of Supernatural, like, literally, if you watch the first maybe ten, fifteen minutes of the first episode of that season, that's all you need to know for context to what's up with Dean ;)**

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When River and Dean arrived at an old bar that was a favorite of River's in the 50th century, at first, River didn't say anything. She knew that Dean had just come back from the dead—she had looked up the exact date so she could be there—and she knew that he was still processing. So instead, she simply let him drink in silence and watched his intake.

New liver, after all.

When she saw him run his finger over his lips, she knew that he was drunk enough that his lips had gone numb, so she figured he was relaxed enough to talk to her now. "What do you remember?" was the first question she asked.

Dean narrowed his eyes and gave her a look that clearly communicated how much he did _not _want to broach that particular subject. "Enough," he said at last when River simply met that look with one of her own.

She lived in a jail, and she was married to the Doctor. No _look _Dean could give her could faze her.

Besides, River had come to this day specifically because she knew what it meant to Dean. It was her little way of trying to pay him back, because he was always there when she needed to get away for a while and sink her teeth into a good hunt, something to distract her from life in prison. (Yes, the Doctor came to visit her often, and those dates were a highlight of her life, but a girl had to exist on more than just the occasional date and then a daily grind of prison life. And she _was _a psychopath.)

And knowing everything that she did, knowing how many times in Dean's future he would let her let the psychopath out alongside him—well, this was really just a way to repay that debt that he didn't even know she felt she owed him yet.

"What do you even care?" Dean asked, his eyes narrowed further until they were almost slits as he turned her way fully.

River let out a patient sigh. "Spoilers."

"That's crap and you know it."

"You're only saying that because you don't like my answer," River said with a quiet smile. "But it's the truth. Those are the rules—no peeking at your own future."

Dean rolled his eyes and then leaned back and threw back a shot. "I've mentioned that I hate having time traveling friends, right?"

"I've heard that song a thousand times," River chuckled.

"Consider this my remix."

River laughed outright at that. "Alright, _that's _a new one."

"Really? What, do I get less funny with age?" Dean asked.

"Spoilers."

"Alright, that answer gets older every time you use it," Dean grumbled.

River shrugged. "I can't help that."

"I think you can."

"I can't help what you think, either."

Dean grinned crookedly at that. "You know, the mysterious look is kinda sexy on you."

"Oh, you're going to have to do better than _kind of _sexy if you want to get anywhere with me," River said, though she was leaning toward him with her eyes sparkling with laughter. She really did love to spend time with Dean; they spoke the same language.

Dean leaned forward, matching her body language. "I'm just getting started."

"Clock's ticking," River shot back, biting her lip to keep back her grin, especially when Dean simply responded with a laugh that sounded like he'd forgotten how to do it until that moment.

Yeah, they'd both definitely needed this.

…

Amy was still in awe of traveling with the Doctor. She'd been to _space_! She'd traveled in space and time—in her nightie!

Yeah, she really needed to find some better clothes to wear if she was going to keep this up. But for the moment, she was having way too much fun to slow down for something as boring as a wardrobe change!

She was grinning as the noise of the TARDIS stopped, and she tossed a laugh over her shoulder toward the Doctor and sashayed over to him. "So," she said, "where did you take me?"

"Let's find out together," the Doctor said, looking just as excited as she felt—which, of course, only had her tickled down to her toes.

After all, there was _her _Raggedy Man, the one no one had believed her about. Her hero. And he'd promised her adventures like she'd never known before.

She loved this.

She loved the thrill of excitement. She loved the little flip her stomach did every time she went to the TARDIS doors. She loved her Raggedy Man with his floppy hair and his floppier smile. She never wanted to stop.

Still grinning, she threw open the doors—and then raised both eyebrows and spun around to face the Doctor. "You took me to a graveyard."

The Doctor looked surprised to hear it—Amy was starting to suspect that he wasn't as good at traveling in space and time as he'd like her to believe, as if making her wait for most of her life before he came back to see her wasn't bad enough—but he quickly recovered some of his manic excitement as he stepped around her and into the cemetery.

"Why'd you take us here, old girl?" he asked—apparently speaking to the TARDIS, another odd quirk of his that Amy couldn't stop grinning over, since he really was such a strange Raggedy Man—but he didn't have to wait for an answer from his blue box when he saw the _rest _of the cemetery outside what they'd spotted in the doorway.

Amy's eyebrows were just as high on her forehead as the Doctor's were on his as the two of them took in the scene. All around the area, something had _flattened _the trees and the earth. It reminded Amy of the pictures she'd seen in school of the aftermath of bombs dropping, and she frowned and turned to the Doctor.

"Did you take me into a warzone in my nightie?" she asked.

"I don't think so," the Doctor said, though that really just confirmed for Amy that he didn't know where they were. Not that she minded traveling by the seat of her pants—it was kind of exciting—but she felt a little vindicated in knowing that the Doctor was, well, raggedy.

"Well, what happened here?" Amy asked. Some of the trees were uprooted, while others looked like they'd simply snapped in half, and others looked like they'd been chopped down. The whole air held a sort of charge, like the feeling of standing in a thunderstorm, and Amy found herself shivering with goosebumps traveling up her arms.

"I don't know," the Doctor admitted, then gave her a crooked smile. "What do you think? Shall we find out together?"

How could Amy resist an invitation like that? She grinned at him and grabbed his arm to thread hers through his, nodding sharply. "Yes. Let's."


	4. Book One: I'm Alive Again, Chapter Three

***quietly introduces a ship I didn't know I needed until I started planning this fic.**

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Dean was grinning widely as he leaned on River, his arm around her shoulders as the two of them stumbled like they were in a three-legged race on the way out the door. He was seriously enjoying the sound of her laugh and the tickle of her bushy hair on his nose as he leaned in and kissed her cheek.

"C'mon," he said in a low, throaty voice that usually got him what he wanted—and at least had River laughing at him. "You're the one looking for privacy."

"You're drunk," River laughed.

"Everything important is still working," Dean argued.

River laughed again and turned her head to kiss his cheek in return. "You're definitely my type," she said, still smiling.

"And you brought me all this way just to get me drunk…" Dean smiled a little bit wider. One of his arms was around her shoulders, but the other he pulled around her waist until he had turned her to face him so he could kiss her properly—and she absolutely didn't slow him down, either.

"I did, didn't I?" River said, sliding her arms over his shoulders.

"Guy's gonna get an impression that way," Dean said without pulling far back from her mouth, speaking against her lips before he kissed her again until she retaliated with a much more passionate kiss that had him backing up a step until his back hit the wall and he was laughing as soon as he got a breath.

River paused and then smirked at him. "You think you can handle it?"

"I know I can."

River's smirk broke into a smile before she grabbed his hand, pulling him along—since she was the one that actually knew where they were going. "Prove it."

…..

_Dean hadn't expected the metal to feel so cold in his hand._

_In Hell, everything was fire and pain, and he was so used to being coated in sweat and blood and saltwater that he'd forgotten what cold felt like._

_That on its own was enough to stop him in his tracks. He was down from the rack, and that was a relief, yes, but the fact that something as simple as _cold _felt like a balm… that spoke to just how bad things had been these last years. _

"_You're not backing out, are you?"_

_Dean closed his eyes and closed his fist around the metal instrument, steadfastly not looking behind him. If he did, he'd see the face of the demon who had been torturing him, who had now promised to teach him all the best ways to cause pain, to make people beg for mercy._

"_No," Dean said. "Just enjoying being on the other side of this."_

"_Good."_

_Dean nodded once, then twice, then turned back to the guy on the rack, who was shaking and sobbing. He'd been somebody in another life, but now he was reduced to this, a quivering mass of flesh._

_Dean thought about hesitating. He did. But he was so tired of getting torn apart, and he didn't know if this promise of freedom would last if he equivocated. For all he knew, this was a one-time offer that they made everyone in Hell, and the ones who didn't take it stayed on the hooks for eternity._

_He wasn't willing to take that chance. He'd resigned himself to Hell for Sam, and now his brother was out there in the world and safe and alive. He'd done his part, and now, well, now he was stuck. It didn't matter anymore what he did. He might as well follow Hell's orders the way he'd followed his dad's. He'd always been a tool and a weapon, right?_

_He frowned down at the shaking, crying man in front of him, then flicked out the knife in his hand. He didn't need to be told where to start. He remembered how the demons had cut into him before._

_The blood he spilled was warm as it trickled down the side of his hands. Of course it was. Everything in Hell was warm._

_Except the tools of the trade._

When Dean woke up, he was sweaty and out of breath and half tangled in the sheets. It took him a long time to get his breath and his bearings, and honestly, he was grateful to River that she didn't try to touch him to calm him down. He was sure he would have lashed out at any physical contact when his mind was still back in Hell.

He ran both hands down his face while River sat with her back against the headboard, quietly watching him lose his cool. That part he was more bothered by, because he didn't want her thinking he couldn't handle himself. But then again, this woman had known exactly when to come and get him when he'd just come back to the land of the living…

"So," he said slowly, "how much do you know?"

"All of it," River told him honestly—she obviously didn't see any point in sugarcoating it or lying to him, which was something he had always appreciated about her, even if they'd only met a few times before.

"Great."

"It's still fresh. I'm not surprised you're dreaming about it," River said, though when Dean frowned hard at the tone of her voice, she smirked and slipped into a silkier whisper. "But I'm a little bit insulted you weren't dreaming of something better," she teased.

"Not that I'm complaining, but is that what this was? Pity?"

River shook her head, still smiling, and then leaned her head on his shoulder, sliding her arms around his waist. "I'm not that kind of girl."

"Wouldn't really know. We're just getting to know each other. And I honestly thought you had a thing for the Doctor—or is that not a thing where you are in your timeline?" Dean shook his head. "Man, I forgot how confusing that is."

River smirked. "You get used to it."

"Yeah, just working on getting back in the saddle."

"You're doing fine." River kissed his cheek. "And yes, I do have a thing for the Doctor. Thank you for noticing."

"Seems to be a pattern," Dean muttered.

"Aww, don't be jealous," River said and kissed him fully. "It's not your fault. I tried to kill him first. How can a girl resist?"

Dean smirked at that. "Somehow, I'm not surprised."

"You really shouldn't be," River said, pulling him into a much longer kiss and smiling against his mouth the whole time. "Now, are you going to keep bringing up another man while you could be having a fling with me? Because if so, I might have to check to make sure you haven't been replaced by an android. _I _wouldn't complain—I've dated a few—but _you _might be put out…"

Dean laughed at that and pushed her back against the pillows. "Yeah, definitely gonna need to check. Thoroughly."

River's grin turned more crooked, and the next thing either of them knew, they were getting tangled up all over again, and Dean forgot for the time being about the dream that had woken him up in the first place.


	5. Book One: I'm Alive Again, Chapter Four

**A/N: Hey, so, I kinda have some cool personal news I wanted to share. One of my best friends in the world, Canucklehead Cowgirl, and I decided to try writing original fiction together under the shares pseudonym C. C. Robbie (because we are dorks). And we just published our first book, "The Last Blaze," and I'm kinda OVER THE MOON about it!**

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"Doctor, really, what's going on?"

Amy was leaned over the park bench, her hair falling down over her shoulders, her eyes lidded. Somehow, that wasn't enough to get the Doctor's attention away from whatever gadget he was holding and muttering to himself about, and Amy let out a huff of frustration when he saw it before she took a more direct approach.

"Hey!"

Amy grinned as she waved the doohickey in front of the Doctor's face. "What is this thing and why are you using it to inspect a phone booth? It's not even blue."

The Doctor finally managed to get his gadget back—not because he was any good at stealing things back from Amy but because she knew she actually had his attention now, which meant he would explain himself instead of being lost in his head. (He was really so much work, her Raggedy Man.) "We're not inspecting a phone booth," he said. "We're inspecting the air in this area. It's charged with artron energy."

Amy blinked at him. "Which means…"

"Which means that someone was time traveling in this area." The Doctor examined his gadget, shook his head, and then set it down on the park bench in favor of licking his finger and sticking it up in the air instead, like he was testing which way the wind was blowing. "See, Amy, this kind of energy clings to things that travel through time; it powers time machines and _attempted _time machines too."

Amy smirked when she heard the tone he was using. "You're not impressed, then?"

The Doctor shook his head. "Whoever is time traveling is doing it the quick, cheap, painful way. Their atoms are not going to be happy with them."

Amy nodded and then tipped her head to the side. "Okay, but you said that this energy sticks to anything that time travels, yeah? So wouldn't it be on us as well?"

The Doctor grinned and pointed at Amy. "Got it in one, Pond," he said, sounding honestly delighted that she was following his technobabble. "But don't worry; the TARDIS is the luxury sports car of time travel. And I can filter out the results so I'm not picking up any residual energy from the TARDIS."

"Oh, I don't know. I've seen luxury sports cars," Amy teased.

"Hey, don't knock the TARDIS," the Doctor said as he picked his gadget up again, looked over the readings, and then shook his head. "Looks like whoever was here picked up a passenger and left again."

"What is that—temporal kidnapping or something?" Amy asked, perking up now that she could sense a little more adventure than whatever techno-sleuthing the Doctor had been doing up until then.

The Doctor narrowed his eyes and looked thoughtful. "Could be," he allowed finally, then suddenly switched back into one of his wider grins and gestured widely for Amy to come with him. "Come along, Pond. The TARDIS can track the artron signature—and we can look into why someone would be interested in this little town in the middle of nowhere for your 'temporal kidnapping' case."

Amy smiled as she followed the Doctor back to the TARDIS. This was more like it. Instead of wandering around and listening to the Doctor talk to herself, she was getting more _adventure_.

It didn't take long for the TARDIS to lock onto the signature that the Doctor had been tracing, and Amy grinned, her heart pounding in her ears over the sound of the TARDIS' engines. She hadn't been traveling with the Doctor for a long enough time to get used to that sound, and it still sounded like the dreams she used to have about the Doctor coming back to whisk her away from her boring old life. But being _inside _the little blue box was louder, more exciting, and more, well, _everything_ compared to a dream.

The Doctor looked up and caught her manic grin to return it with one of her own, and Amy let out a delighted laugh. The Doctor was _hers _in a way that she'd never been able to explain to any of the therapists she'd had growing up. It was nice to be proven right after all this time.

Finally, the TARDIS dinged to let them know it had landed, and Amy raced the Doctor to the door, pausing only to toss her hair over her shoulder. "Should I be worried that we're going after potential kidnappers in nothing but my nightie?"

"They should be worried about _you_," the Doctor shot back, shadow boxing as if he was fighting an opponent.

Amy grinned, tipped her chin up, and then put on a passible snooty expression. "That's right," she said, spinning on her heel to throw open the door.

She somehow wasn't surprised to find that there was a bright, loud bar on the other side of the TARDIS doors. But even though they were on a serious mission, Amy couldn't help but stop and stare at some of the different aliens she saw walking around. They couldn't have been on Earth anymore, and they definitely weren't in Amy's time, considering the level of technology she saw all around her.

And then, she saw one of the windows that had a view of stars that she'd never seen before, and she rushed that way, temporarily abandoning what she was _supposed _to be doing so she could look out at them.

She was never going to get tired of this. Of being in space.

Finally, she tore her gaze away from the window back to the Doctor, who was walking through the crowd with his gadget. He stopped at the bar, and Amy grinned before she flounced over. "Buy a girl a drink?"

The Doctor glanced up at her for a moment. "Do you want to try something here? The energy signature is pretty strong here; they must have stayed here for a while. Maybe we can talk to people while we try something…" he said. "They've got a Venutian whiskey I used to like when I was a different me. I wonder if my mouth agrees…"

Amy smiled to herself, thinking of when she'd first met the Doctor and watched him spit out pretty much every food or drink she'd tried to give him. "You really don't change, do you?"

"Of course I do. All the time. Change is good. Staying still is boring," the Doctor said as if that was the most obvious thing in the world.

Amy smirked but kept her commentary to herself—especially when she knew she was about to be proven right anyway and she could gloat about it as soon as it happened. And so, sure enough, when the Doctor ordered both drinks and then immediately spit his out, she just started to laugh. She didn't even have to say anything; the Doctor's spluttering was enough.

The Doctor shook his head and rubbed his mouth with the back of his hand. "How did I ever like this stuff before? Pure poison," he scoffed—and Amy laughed harder.

She watched the Doctor flash his psychic paper at the barkeep and then launch into an explanation of how he was investigating a kidnapping and whatnot, though Amy though his method of asking if the guy had seen "anything suspicious" was ridiculous, considering the variety of aliens and assorted rough-housers in the place. Amy didn't have to know where or when they were to know this wasn't a top-dollar bar.

Finally, when Amy was tired of watching the Doctor flounder so much, she laughed and leaned over to catch the barkeep's attention. "Maybe you can help us," she said. "They'd have come out of nowhere and one of them probably did what I did—looked around the whole place like it was new. Ringing any bells?"

Finally, the guy started to smile and nod. "Yeah. There was a couple that came through like that, rented one of our rooms."

Amy fluttered her eyelashes. "Can you tell us which one?"

The guy nodded, and a few minutes later, Amy was headed up the stairs with her arm laced through the Doctor's, laughing the whole time.

"Now, _that_ is how you run an interrogation," she said.


	6. Book One: I'm Alive Again, Chapter Five

**Two updates in as many days? I must be in a super good mood over my book coming out or something :P**

* * *

"Well, this is your stop."

Dean and River had managed to make their way all the way back to the phone booth where Dean had been about to call up his brother. According to River, only about half an hour had passed since they'd left, so she'd been true to her word.

This was the one part of time travel that Dean didn't think he'd ever get used to: getting right back into the swing of everyday life as if nothing had changed and he hadn't just spent an amazing night out drinking and spending the night with a gorgeous girl. Maybe it was different for the people who actually traveled with the Doctor, since they didn't have to go back to their "usual" lives. But it definitely took some getting used to.

Dean looked around the place as he tried to get back some of that same urgency he'd had when he first arrived. Yes, he was still concerned about Sam and whatever his baby brother had done to get him out of Hell, but on the other hand, now that he'd had a little distance and time to think about it, he was starting to think he had things figured out.

See, River had reminded him of the _other _part of his hunting life, the part connected to the Doctor and all the people in the guy's orbit. And he knew that there were people he hadn't met yet that had recognized him _and _his brother. Amy and Rory, for example. He'd met them while River was around, and that reminder was grounding. Amy had seemed perfectly comfortable with Sam.

Which meant, Dean reasoned, that Sam wasn't going to get himself killed. Or, at least, that he wasn't going to stay dead. So whatever convoluted scheme Sam had slapped together to get Dean back, it wasn't permanent. Dean could undo it, and then his brother could go on to meet those people that they'd already met—but in the right order for the time travelers.

On the other hand, Dean had _also _had time to think about the implications for himself, and he was starting to get resigned to it. He remembered meeting another companion, Clara, who had taken a long time to warm up to him. She'd been _scared _of him.

Considering what Dean remembered of his time in Hell, he was starting to get a pretty good idea of what had scared her.

It made even more sense when he considered that River seemed to be going out of her way to make sure he'd enjoyed himself. She wouldn't tell him what was in store, but, well, if she knew that Dean was going to turn back into the monster he'd been in Hell, if she knew that he was going to undo whatever Sam did and turn into the thing that scared Clara, maybe one night of being a _person_ in a new body was her way of helping him prepare for it.

And so, with all that running through his head, "thanks" didn't seem to cover what he wanted to say to River, but that's what he said all the same.

"Oh, anytime," River said breezily. "It's purely selfish, you know. I always know I can have a good time with you."

Despite himself, Dean broke into a grin. "Feeling's entirely mutual."

River smiled at that and kissed his cheek, but before she could say anything else, both of them paused in their conversation when they heard the familiar whirring noise of the TARDIS nearby. Sharing a glance, they broke into a run to see if they could catch the arrival of their favorite time traveler—but instead, they only caught a glimpse of the blue box as it faded into the air.

River swore under her breath and then started to laugh as she turned toward Dean, shaking her head at the situation. "I love him, but he has such terrible timing sometimes, doesn't he?"

Dean couldn't stop his smile, especially considering how closely River was draped over his shoulder. "You'd think he'd be better at that, considering he's a time traveler."

"Oh, he'd like you to think that," River said, still obviously enjoying herself and laughing. She held up a finger to tell him to stay where he was and then dug into her pocket to pull out a piece of paper. "I need to get back to Stormgate, but when you see him, give him this for me, would you?" she said as she quickly scribbled down a few words and then signed it with a lipsticked kiss.

"You know, most people don't ask the guy they just slept with to deliver love notes to their boyfriends," Dean teased, though he took the piece of paper anyway. At this point, he'd learned to run with it. _Nothing _about the Doctor or his friends was normal.

Besides, who was he to turn away a pretty girl in need of a little company?

"Oh, he's not my _boyfriend_," River said, though the way she said it left her laughing and Dean more than a little suspicious about what kind of arrangement she had with the guy. She laughed even more at his expression and then leaned over to steal a kiss. "Don't overthink it, handsome."

"Yeah, that's something no one has ever accused me of doing before."

"Which is a shame, because you're so smart you sometimes leave yourself in the dust rushing ahead of your own thought process," she shot right back, barely even pausing for a breath.

Dean shook his head at her. "River…"

"Oh, don't give me that look," she said, waving her hand at him. "I've known you longer than you think I have. Every girl needs a best friend with benefits, don't you think?"

Dean couldn't help but laugh—it was the only way to deal with River when she was like this. "Can't argue that."

"So don't try," she said before she kissed his cheek again, leaving a faint mark of lipstick, and then flounced off, waving over her shoulder. "See you later!"

"Sounds like spoilers to me!" he called back.

"Is it?" River asked, pulling off a passable imitation of innocence before she laughed delightedly and disappeared in a streak of light to go back to wherever Stormcage was.

Dean shook his head and then headed back to the phone booth. No more distractions. He was _going _to find his brother, and he was _going _to find out what had happened to pull him out of Hell, and he was _going _to fix it.

Of course, the kiss-stained note in his back pocket left Dean with the sneaking suspicion that he was in for at least _one _more distraction. But hey, if that happened, maybe he could get the Doctor to give him a ride straight to Sam.

Yeah, and while he was dreaming up best-case scenarios, he'd like to retire in Hawaii with a nice girl and have three kids.


	7. Book One: I'm Alive Again, Chapter Six

"You know, for a time traveler, you sure are good at getting somewhere just a smidge too late."

Amy was standing in the room that the bartender had pointed out to them with her hands on her hips as she surveyed the scene. Someone had obviously been here before them—housekeeping hadn't cleaned the place up yet—but aside from a few wet towels, they hadn't really left anything behind. This was the second time in as many stops in the TARDIS that they'd found nothing but an empty space, and Amy found herself once again doubting the Doctor's ability to actually _be on time_.

In fact, all things considered, she was sure she should just assume that the Doctor never knew what he was doing and that he was always late. It had taken him _years _instead of the five minutes he'd promised her before he came back for her, after all. Why would a pressing time kidnapping question be any different?

He really did drive her crazy sometimes.

The Doctor stepped into the room behind her and frowned when he saw what she did—that it was empty—before he whipped out the thing he'd been using before to scan for energy. "We must have just missed them," he said. "Maybe a minute or two."

Amy rolled her eyes when she heard it. "Oh, and that's supposed to make it better?"

"Oy, don't knock the TARDIS," the Doctor warned, one finger pointed her way. "She's just following the trail these time skippers left behind."

"And _trailing _behind," Amy pointed out in a huff.

The Doctor pursed his lips and then let out a huff right back at her before he took a look at his readings and once more pocketed his device. "Well, no point in standing around here, then, right?" he said, holding out his hand to her. "Let's get back to the TARDIS."

Amy couldn't help but smile as she took his hand and the two of them headed back through the bar toward where they'd left the TARDIS. Even with as frustrated as she could be with him and his blue box and his _constant tardiness, _she still loved this. And as long as she kept him on his toes, he'd keep up with her, so it all worked out in the end, didn't it?

"Seriously, Doctor," she said once they were back inside and he was all bundles of energy as he moved around the console room. "We _are _going to catch a time kidnapper, right?"

Amy could swear she heard the TARDIS make a sound from deep within its confines in response.

The Doctor looked between Amy and the TARDIS and then patted the console affectionately. "Amy, this old girl has seen wars and wonders and—" He paused, frowning down at some readouts, before he started to shake his head. "No, no, no—this is not the kind of thing you play games with!"

Amy leaned forward. "What's wrong?"

"She doesn't want to land," the Doctor said, toggling one of the controls more aggressively—but the TARDIS didn't seem to respond at all.

"_Why?_"

"If I knew, she wouldn't be _doing this to me_," the Doctor said, obviously frustrated—though before he could really get worked up, the tone of the noises the TARDIS was making shifted into ones that Amy better recognized, and they landed a moment later.

"See? Now, that wasn't so hard, was it?" Amy asked, though she wasn't sure if she was asking the Doctor or the TARDIS. She knew that the TARDIS was alive and that it seemed to have a mind of its own, but she also couldn't resist the urge to tease the Doctor. So, she was probably teasing them both at the same time.

She could walk and chew gum at the same time, after all.

The doors opened up, and Amy almost laughed when she saw that they were right back where they started—she could even see the phone booth in the distance. "Seriously? What was so hard about landing here again?" Amy asked—both the Doctor and the TARDIS, again.

"That's the question of the day, isn't it?" the Doctor said, shaking his head at the TARDIS before he stepped out of the door with Amy, squinting at some readouts on his machine before he started to march in a new direction.

"Doctor!" she called out after him.

She hadn't been expecting to hear someone else echo the name: "Doc?"

Amy turned toward the Doctor, who had paused at the voice. "Doctor, do you have another time traveling friend you haven't told me about?"

"Several," the Doctor said, already walking toward the sound. "Though this particular friend doesn't usually time travel on his own."

Intrigued, Amy followed the Doctor until they found a young man around Amy's age, wearing a grin and a plaid shirt as he waved at the two of them. "Hey, Doc. Hey, Amy."

Amy's eyebrows shot up, but the Doctor didn't even seem fazed by the fact that this guy seemed to know who she was. "Hello, Dean. Time traveling without me?"

Dean broke into a crooked grin and shrugged with his hands in his back pockets. "Just a quick jump with a friend. She says hi, by the way." He held out a piece of paper, and Amy couldn't hide her curiosity, looking over his shoulder to see the neatly printed message there:

_Took him for a little spin. I'll take you for one next time, Sweetie. -xoxo_

There was no name in the signature, and Amy turned with her whole body toward the Doctor. "Oh, I have so many questions right now."

"Not now, Pond," the Doctor said, pocketing the piece of paper.

"So many questions," Amy insisted.

"That's pretty much the usual with him, isn't it?" Dean pointed out with a laugh. "Nice pajamas."

Amy made a face. "And who are you, exactly?"

"Oh, right. I guess we haven't met yet," Dean said, then held out his hand with a winning smile. "Dean Winchester."

"Amy Pond," she replied, sizing him up. He was definitely cute, and he seemed nice enough, but she still wasn't sure what to think of the fact that he already felt a step ahead of her. On the other hand, the Doctor seemed to take the whole thing in his stride. He'd obviously met this guy before, and Amy wanted to know what the history was. "He leave you behind too?" she asked at last, unable to resist the chance to needle the Doctor yet again about his unkept promises.

"Sweetheart, I don't get _left behind_," Dean said with the kind of easy smile that Amy had seen countless times before on similarly good-looking guys. "I have a job that needs doing, so I stay here while the Doc does _his _job. They just sometimes happen to overlap."

Amy pursed her lips and then pointed at Dean. "First of all, never call me that again," she said, and Dean held his hands up in a gesture of peace. "But secondly… I'm going to want to hear this story." She pointed at the bench beyond where they were standing. "So, let's hear it, then."


	8. Book One: I'm Alive Again, Chapter Seven

Sam hadn't heard the sound of the TARDIS. He had been too wrapped up in other matters.

Specifically, Ruby.

Sam honestly didn't know what he would have done without Ruby, though there was always that voice of doubt in the back of his mind pointing out that if his dad was there, if Dean was there, they would have warned him away from her.

But Dean was dead. Dad was dead. So Sam wasn't exactly inclined to listen to even the memory of their disapproval.

It wouldn't have been the first time that Sam ventured off the straight and narrow path that his father and brother seemed so determined to lay out for him. Going to college had been a fight. Quitting hunting had been a fight. Now, lying in bed with Ruby, he was sure that _this _would have been a fight too.

Maybe that was part of the reason he stayed with her. Maybe there was more to it than the comfort she gave him and the way she helped him to hone his powers when everyone else before her had insisted that he do things _their _way, that he ignore what he was. Maybe there was a part of him that felt those reminders of Dean's and Dad's disapproval and reveled in remembering them at all.

And then on the other hand, maybe with both of them gone, a weight had been lifted from Sam's shoulders. Suddenly, he didn't have anyone telling him what he should do, what he should be. He had spent one year with Dean trying to save him, trying to give him the best last year of his life that he could, but now? Now, his identity wasn't swallowed up in his brother. Now, he had tried everything and couldn't undo what had been done. So what was stopping him from making his own choices about how to move on with his life?

It helped that Ruby let him _mourn _in a way that he hadn't been allowed to do before. Lately, it seemed like one loss had been stacked on top of another until he could hardly breathe, but Ruby let him get lost in that feeling. She didn't try to drown it out with another hunt; she let him get lost in _her_ instead.

It was a terrible decision. A selfish decision. And he knew it. But he was so tired of doing the right thing all the time, and it was nice to _let go_.

So, no, Sam hadn't been thinking about much of anything outside of Ruby when the TARDIS landed not far from where the two of them were wrapped up in each other. And even if he had heard the TARDIS, he probably would have actively ignored the sound. He didn't want to get caught up in _anything _to do with the Doctor, not when the guy had allowed his brother to die without even _trying _to save him.

Which meant that there was no _possible _way Sam was prepared to open the door to his room at a knock—and to see his brother standing there.

The bottom dropped out of Sam's stomach.

_Dean_.

He couldn't do or say anything for what felt like an eternity as he stood there, frozen in the door. The last time he had seen his brother, Dean had been broken and bloody and _dead. _And now, here he was, standing there whole and _alive_ and—Sam didn't even know how to _begin _to process this.

And then, before he could get his feet underneath him, Ruby cut in with an excuse about pizza and a jab that had Dean smirking and thinking Sam had called her by the wrong name. He hated when she did that, but he also loved when she did that.

And he appreciated that Ruby didn't immediately bust him to Dean when he'd _just _gotten his brother back. He didn't know what this was or how long Dean would be back or if this was just another cruel prank like the one the Trickster had played on them before, but he didn't want to have the Ruby fight when he had much better things to do.

Like trying to figure out how this was even _possible_.

Sam kept staring at his brother. And the thing was, Dean didn't look like he was faring much better at all. Sam kept catching him looking at Sam like he was trying to drink in every moment, and that, finally, was what brought him out of his stupor.

After all, the last time he'd seen his brother look like _that_, Dean had been gearing up to tell Sam goodbye. And Sam wasn't interested in any long goodbyes. He wasn't interested in _any _goodbyes. He was done getting hurt. That was the whole point of everything he was doing with Ruby: he didn't want to be kicked around anymore.

And around the same time Sam finally got his feet back underneath him, he realized that Dean was accusing him of masterminding some convoluted scheme to save him, and that was when he broke form and _snapped._

Dean had _no _idea what he had been through. _No one _would bargain with him. No one would let him swap places. No one would give him _anything_. And if Dean thought differently, he didn't know what Sam had been through in the last months.

When he'd laid it all out on the table, Dean blinked at him and then shook his head, looking suddenly tired. "We've got to figure this out, Sammy."

"Do we?" Sam shot back. "I mean, you're back, aren't you?"

"Yeah, but—"

"That's all that matters to me."

Dean fell silent. He obviously didn't know what to say—but then again, they had never been good at this part. At knowing how to navigate how much they both _needed _each other. Dean especially. But then, finally, Dean cleared his throat. "You remember River Song?"

Sam narrowed his eyes before he did, finally, place the name—and then his eyes narrowed further. "You mean the Doctor actually stepped up after all that fighting?"

"No, I don't think it was him," Dean said, frowning. "Though he did give me a lift."

"Of course. Because why would he do anything _useful_," Sam said dryly.

Dean rolled his eyes at that but didn't pick up the fight. "Point is, River knew where I was gonna be when I crawled out of that grave, Sammy. I think she knew what got me out—and she took me out drinking like she was bucking me up before a big fight."

"But she didn't tell you what it was," Sam surmised.

"No."

"Of course not."

"Hey, you've seen the same movies I have. Laws of time travel and all—"

"I really don't want to hear it," Sam cut in before Dean could get going. He loved his brother, and he knew that Dean could quote pretty much every cult scifi movie by heart, but he was still reeling, and he still wanted to be sure that whatever had brought his brother back wasn't going to tear them apart all over again. He couldn't take that. He really couldn't.

But if Dean could tell Sam was still wrapping his head around everything, he didn't actually point that out. What he did instead was smirk, put his arm around Sam's shoulders, and say, "So, how about we grab the food you and whatsername were going to have…"

Sam let out a laugh of disbelief and then brushed Dean's hand off his shoulder. "Shut up."


	9. Book One: I'm Alive Again, Chapter Eight

"Okay, so are you going to tell me who your cute friend is, or am I supposed to just assume you two are dating?"

The Doctor looked up from what he had been doing—checking the date to see what it was that had drawn the mysterious River Song to this day in particular—and then made a face at Amy. "Really, now, Pond, I'm still too new to know if I even have a type."

"Is it like apples? You have to try all sorts of different dating opportunities to figure out what you like best now that you're all 'new'?" Amy grinned and leaned forward, both eyebrows raised as she caught the Doctor's attention. "Are you experimenting?"

The Doctor shook his head in disbelief, still mostly distracted by what he was seeing on the TARDIS readouts. There was something familiar about the date, but with Amy teasing him and carrying on, he couldn't quite place what it was. "Is that really the first thing on your mind?" he asked.

"He's very cute," Amy said, once more leaning over the console with trouble dancing in her eyes.

"Then _you _can experiment with him," the Doctor said, absently waving one hand. He'd dealt with this before—companions who got caught up in their own little dramas. Donna and her quest to find someone to settle down with. Even Rose had flirted with plenty of little humans and others. It seemed like such a distraction sometimes—and at other times, he still remembered wondering if he wanted that. If he would ever want that.

"That's absolutely not the point," Amy said, though she was laughing as this time, she shifted so that she could look at the readouts over his shoulder. "What is it you're doing, exactly?"

"Checking the date," the Doctor said, frowning as he tapped his fingers against the console before he spun away from it and started to shake his head as he moved around the console room. Maybe moving helped him think better in this new body; he'd been in previous ones that thought kinesthetically, after all. "There's something familiar about it, but I just can't place it."

"Seemed like a perfectly normal day to me," Amy said with a shrug. "You know, other than the trees all being knocked down and the time traveling kidnapping…" She grinned. "Why don't you ask your boyfriend? He's the one who asked us to take him to his brother. Sounded like this Sam person did something stupid we need to fix, anyway."

The Doctor had stopped listening to Amy halfway through what she was saying, though, and he spun around before she'd finished her sentence, pointing at her with a manic grin. "Right!" he said, tapping her on the end of the nose as she looked at him like he'd lost his mind. "Right, that's absolutely not what's going on, but I've just remembered what it is!"

"Well, that's good," Amy said. "So, what now, Doctor?"

"Absolutely nothing," he said, still grinning and flush with success. He was still getting used to being him, and this new him loved to be right, even if he was still getting back up to speed.

Amy narrowed both eyes and pursed her lips. "Want to run that one by me again?"

"We don't need to do anything," the Doctor said. "I just remembered what this day is, and it's the day Dean comes back from the dead. The beginning of the rest of their lives."

Amy held up both hands, framing him with them. "You're still not making any sense, Doctor."

"Yes, well, the Winchesters have never been normal. To be fair, I've had another friend who came back from the dead, but there were extenuating circumstances—mind you, these boys also have extenuating circumstances. Not quite the same as the heart of the TARDIS rewriting reality—"

"Doctor, focus," Amy said, one hand on her hip.

"Right." He spun in place and then pointed at her. "The short version is this: those men are monster hunters—and have been since they were kids. All those things people talk about as monsters in the closet or under the bed? Their job is to keep those things from hurting the rest of humanity. So you can imagine that means they deal with the kind of impossible things—"

"—that you promised to show me." Amy smiled. "So, when are we going to fight ghosts or whatever it is that they're working on today?"

"Maybe not today," the Doctor admitted. "How would you like to have to go right back down to work right after coming back from the dead?" He paused, tapping his fingers against the console. "That's why our friend the kidnapper whisked him off to a bar."

"Better reintroduction to the world," Amy finished for him.

The Doctor smiled a little wider. This was one of the many reasons he'd wanted Amy to travel with him. She could finish his thoughts and sentences; she was clever, and he loved traveling with clever humans. He loved people like Amy, who looked at the world in new ways. That was why he kept traveling; he wanted to see the universe through their eyes. It was more beautiful that way.

Amy was nodding to herself as she thought over everything the Doctor had to say. "So, we're just being a taxi service to a couple battered monster hunters?"

The Doctor smiled her way, though it wasn't the usual manic grin. Instead, it was a smile full of warmth. "Not every adventure is as big as our last one," he said. "But I think it's the smaller ones that are more important, don't you, Pond? You grew up in that big, empty house—don't you know how much better it is when you have people around, someone to be there when you need them? That's just as important as saving a spaceship full of people. Not every act of heroism is so obvious."

Amy's expression softened as well, and then she laughed and shook her head. "Okay, you're right, but I'd still like to fight a vampire or something."

The Doctor grinned and patted the TARDIS console. "Oh, I'm sure it'll happen," he said. "Dean recognized you, so we'll be meeting him earlier in his timeline."

"Which is still so weird. You know that, don't you?" Amy teased.

"It's only weird to humans," the Doctor defended.

Amy smiled and reached over to knock the Doctor in the shoulder. "Hey, did I say it was a _bad _thing?"

At that, the Doctor broke into a teasing grin. "I'd certainly hope not, Pond. Otherwise, what's the point of coming out to see the world if all you're going to do is impose your own standards of reality on it? That's no fun!"

Amy laughed. "That's the Raggedy Man I know!" With that, she settled back against the railing of the TARDIS, watching the Doctor work.

She was glad for moments like this. She had meant what she'd said before, in the Starship UK. She loved that the Doctor was kind and old and wonderful. And seeing him take the time out of his hectic adventures, seeing him _slow down _for long enough to make sure that an old friend was going to be alright…

Well, everything felt right.


	10. Book One: I'm Alive Again, Chapter Nine

**Notes: I absolutely love playing with Amy and Dean. The parallels between them are ... surprisingly fun ;)**

* * *

It had taken a long time before Dean even started to consider the idea that Sam hadn't been the one behind his resurrection. He still wasn't entirely sure that Sam wasn't lying to him, but on the other hand, he _had _run into the Doctor and River since coming back to life, so the idea that it was something new, something he and Sam hadn't dealt with yet, wasn't that far-fetched.

It would be nice if it was something space-related. Hell had been, well, hell to deal with. Surely space would be better.

And that was what finally broke him out of reuniting with his brother—and trying to drink in every second of his brother standing there, alive, not in Hell. He needed to talk to the Doctor. River might have been tight-lipped about what was going on, but the Doctor could be convinced, he was sure.

Maybe.

Well, it was worth a try.

He noticed that Sam wasn't glaring as hard at the TARDIS anymore, too, and figured that was one good thing about coming back to life. Maybe Sam would get over the fact that the Doctor hadn't helped him skirt around his death pact if the guy had always known that he was coming back. The Doctor talked about maintaining Time and history and all that; maybe he was just waiting for the boys to catch up to this part.

"Hey, Doc!" Dean called out, knocking on the outside of the TARDIS.

The door opened, and Amy grinned at both of them. She was still wearing a nightgown, for some reason. "Hey, boys."

"Nice look," Dean said as the two of them slipped past her into the TARDIS. Dean kind of liked the other TARDIS look better, but then again, he figured he would always be partial to the one he'd traveled in when he was a kid. But the view was _definitely _helped by a hot redhead in a nightgown.

"Down boy," Amy said without missing a beat.

Dean grinned. He didn't know how the Doctor managed to find the _best _people to travel with, but they were always fun to play with. "The Doc in?"

"He's checking something on his time travel doohickey." Amy waved her hand. "I tried to get him to slow down and explain it to me in small, plain English—"

"—but he doesn't do that, yeah. I know."

Amy grinned, leaning against the railing. "Oh, yes. You can stay."

"Hate to tell you this, Amy, but I've been doing this longer than you have."

"Bet I have you beat."

"Since I was eight," Dean said, grinning triumphantly.

"Seven," Amy shot back.

Dean's eyebrows shot right up, but then he almost laughed when he saw that Amy looked just as triumphant about winning their argument as he had felt only seconds ago. "Okay, well played," Dean said, joining her as she leaned on the railing. "So, how'd you meet him?"

"He showed up at my house, ate half my pantry, and promised he'd be back in five minutes." She blew out a frustrated breath. "Fast forward twelve years…"

"Wait, seriously?" Dean shook his head. "I thought the fact that we only saw him every few years growing up was one thing…"

"Oh, I made sure he knew _exactly _how I felt about it," Amy promised.

"Good," Sam put in. He had been hanging back slightly from the conversation—Dean didn't think he was entirely comfortable with the Doctor or anything associated with him yet, even if Dean wasn't dead anymore—but he clearly couldn't keep his mouth shut on this part. "He needs someone around to tell him when he's being an idiot."

"Nice to see you too, Sam," the Doctor said.

"If I'm wrong, I'll say so."

"Oh, I like him too," Amy said, pushing off of the railing to spin to face Sam. But when she saw that Sam looked genuinely mad at the Doctor instead of playfully teasing, her expression shifted, and she looked between Sam and the Doctor. "Okay, what happened?"

"It's fine," Sam started to say, but seeing as Amy didn't look like she was going to let it drop, Dean cut in.

"I died," Dean said. "And the Doctor wouldn't help Sam save me."

Amy narrowed her eyes as she looked between them. All three of them. Her gaze finally landed on the Doctor, and she pointed a finger his way. "That doesn't sound like you."

"He's not dead," the Doctor pointed out. "And that was a long time ago, for me. A lifetime ago."

"Not really helping your case," Amy said, sounding exasperated—but the kind of exasperation that came from trying to help someone and watching them dig themselves deeper into a hole.

Dean absolutely knew that feeling.

"Time travel," Sam said, shaking his head. "It's fine. He knew Dean was coming back, apparently."

"Still," Amy said, frowning.

"Yeah, still," Sam agreed.

Dean looked between the others in the TARDIS, frowned, and then shook his head. "Okay, that's it," he said, slipping over to run his hands over the console. It still felt the same as the one that had let him fly it, though he somehow doubted that the TARDIS would be willing to do that again now that he'd literally been through Hell and back. Still, there was something calming and comforting about the psychic touch he could feel when he reached out to the console. "What do you think, huh?" he asked the TARDIS. "Get away from this place for a little while and have a party?"

The TARDIS dinged happily in response.

"Oy," the Doctor said, pointing a finger Dean's way. "Don't steal my girl."

"Wouldn't dream of it. I've got my own ride," Dean said without missing a beat, though his crooked grin told everyone there that he was definitely at least thinking of taking the TARDIS for a joyride. When the Doctor gave him a dry look that clearly communicated how much he wasn't amused with Dean's antics, Dean laughed and held both hands up in a gesture of peace. "Hey, come on. I just came back from the dead. I think that warrants ice cream and a trip to the stars to see the world from above, right?" He grinned over at Amy. "That's where he took me and Sam when we first met."

Amy spun to face the Doctor, her long, red hair flying out behind her. "Hey. How come you took _them_ to space but _I _had to wait for you for years?"

"The TARDIS wasn't on fire when I met them," the Doctor said, but that just had Dean bursting out laughing.

"Wait, why did you set the TARDIS on fire?"

"It wasn't on _purpose_," the Doctor said, sounding indignant, but Dean was already laughing too hard to care.

After forty years in Hell, he needed that laugh, too.


	11. Book Two: Cas, Meet Donna: Chapter One

**Book Two: Cas, Meet Donna**

* * *

Donna made a face when the first thing that happened when they walked out of the TARDIS was that she heard the buzzing of a wasp nearby. And she kept that face on until she had double-checked that the buzzing came from a nest, not from a _flippin' giant wasp _like the one they'd just fought off with Agatha Christie.

Once she saw that everything looked normal—well, as normal as things could be with the Doctor—she relaxed and turned to face him as he came out of the TARDIS with her. "So," she said brightly, "where are we, then?"

The Doctor looked around, making a show of it—though Donna had seen him glance at the TARDIS screen and knew he had cheated. He just liked to be dramatic and make people think he was a super-alien who could tell place and time just by sticking his finger in the wind. And sometimes—_sometimes_—Donna let him get away with it. After all, she was starting to see just how much he needed cheering up. All the time.

So she didn't call him out on his dramatic nonsense as he spun in place and then declared, "Looks like we're in Kansas again, Donna."

Donna smiled when she heard it. Last time they'd been in Kansas, they had run into a teenage boy that she'd then helped raise in the past—and she'd actually been looking forward to seeing him again. "How long since the last time, though?" she asked. "Are we, like, in Kansas during the age when the Native Americans didn't have to worry about all the settlers or are we in Kansas in the thirty-ninth century or something?"

"Good question," the Doctor said with a smile. "Not really that different from the last time we were here, to tell the truth. Looks like a little over ten years since that incident with the angels."

_Ten years. _Donna's eyebrows were high as she mulled that one over. A lot could happen in ten years, especially with a boy who even at a young age was fighting off creatures like the weeping angels. "Well then," she said, dusting her hands off, "let's see what there is to see, shall we?"

The Doctor smiled and gestured for her to lead the way—not that Donna knew where she was going. They seemed to have landed in the middle of nowhere, and they'd been walking for about ten minutes before they saw the first sign of civilization: an abandoned farm building. Donna and the Doctor shared a wordless glance before they headed for the building, but before they'd even reached it, they knew they were on the right track when they could hear raised voices.

"I'm telling you, Cas, none of it makes any sense!" The voice sounded vaguely familiar to Donna, but much older—so she had to look to the Doctor for him to nod confirmation and mouth of "Dean" before she dared to put a name to the voice.

The second voice, however, wasn't one that either of them recognized: "That's the plan—"

"Screw the plan!" Dean shouted over the second voice. "You and I both know it's not right. You're supposed to be the _good _guys, and you're trying to stage a cock fight between me and my brother just to give you some _pawns_ in your game!"

"That's not—"

"It is, and you know it!"

Donna and the Doctor shared a look, both of them raising eyebrows so that they looked like mirror images of each other. Whoever Dean was talking to, it was obvious they did _not _get along. "Any idea what that's about?" Donna whispered, one hand cupped to her mouth.

The Doctor shrugged openly. "One way to find out."

Donna grinned and took the lead, only waiting long enough for the Doctor to sonic the lock on the door before she strolled in, grinning widely. "What seems to be the problem here, boys?"

Once she was inside, however, she was nearly taken aback when she saw the scene. She could recognize Dean—somewhat—but he was a far cry from the teenager _or _the little boy that she'd known. He was fully grown—and what's more, he'd drawn himself up to his full height while he was arguing with the man across from him, so Donna could see just how _much _he'd grown.

The other man was almost as tall as Dean was, though there was something about him that Donna couldn't quite place. She didn't know if it was the long coat or the look in his eye, but something had all the alarm bells going off in her head that this wasn't a _normal _person.

Not that it took a genius of the Doctor's caliber to know that anything Dean was facing wasn't normal. Even Donna knew that much.

"Doc!" Dean's entire demeanor changed, and he broke into a grin. "Perfect timing! You can help me convince Cas here that letting someone else walk around in my skin is a _bad idea_."

"Why on Earth would you do that?" the Doctor asked, looking perfectly mystified—which was a relief to Donna, since after everything she'd seen with the Doctor, she wouldn't be surprised if there _was _some alien race out there that was perfectly fine with being skinwalkers or something like that. Might be where the old horror stories came from, now that she thought about it.

Dean gestured at the Doctor with a look of triumph and then turned to face his friend—apparently Cas—with both hands outstretched. "See? Even the time-traveling alien can see it's _stupid_."

"Heaven isn't interested in the opinion of an outsider," Cas replied, and Donna was once again struck by how _different _he was. She didn't know what it was about him, but listening to him speak definitely had her convinced that he was more powerful than he let on.

…And what was that about Heaven?

The Doctor must have caught that reference too, but if he had, he wasn't saying anything about it. "Well," he said, in that drawn-out way of his that was both endearing and annoying—like pretty much everything else about him, in Donna's opinion—"maybe Heaven should think about expanding its horizons. And who are you, exactly, claiming to be from Heaven itself?"

Cas met the Doctor's gaze. "I don't _claim _to be from Heaven," he said in a tone that suggested he was offended but without the full emotion behind it. "I _am_."

"No, really," Donna said, snorting out a laugh.

"Really," Cas said flatly.

Donna blinked. He was _serious_. She turned to look at Dean, who didn't look like he was laughing, and she shook her head. "What is he talking about, Dean?"

Dean let out a long breath. "Right. Introductions. Guess you haven't met him yet—or something. No idea where we are in the timeline for you." He gestured between the other three people in the room. "Cas, this is the Doctor and Donna. Doctor, Donna, meet Cas. He's a pain in my—"

"Yeah, we heard the shouts from all the way at the TARDIS," Donna said. "Nice to meet you."

Cas sighed but tipped his head in acknowledgement. "Hello."

"Don't just stand there like an idiot," Dean said, rolling his eyes at Cas. "Introduce yourself."

"You already did," Cas pointed out.

"I gave your name."

Cas pinched the bridge of his nose, but when Dean crossed his arms and gave Cas a look that clearly said he wasn't getting out of the social niceties, he offered Donna his hand. "Castiel, Angel of the Lord."

Donna had been _ridiculously_ entertained watching Dean lay down the law with Cas—right up until she heard his full title. And then, she couldn't help but look between Dean and the Doctor, surprised when Dean seemed to take the revelation in stride even though Deborah had erased her memory from Dean and the Doctor when she saved them from the weeping angels.

But the Doctor, on the other hand, was blinking more than normal, and he had a strange expression on his face as he rubbed his forehead.

That couldn't be a good sign.


	12. Book Two: Cas, Meet Donna: Chapter Two

**A/N: Sorry for taking so long between chapters. I'll be kind of slow for the next... while. Turns out having a newborn at home isn't conducive to sleep. Or writing :P She's a few months old now and sleeping better, but still...**

* * *

"Hey, Doc, you okay?" Dean put a hand on the Doctor's shoulder, frowning when he saw that his friend had a hand to his head, obviously disoriented. Anything that could make the Doctor look like that couldn't be good.

The Doctor _had _looked like he was off his game, but as soon as Dean said something and pointed out to him that he was off, he straightened up and tried to brush off Dean's concern. (Dean could relate; he never knew what to do when people were worried about him, either. Way easier to worry about other people than himself, after all.)

But by that time, Donna was also concerned—though Cas was watching their interactions with his head tipped to the side and his eyes narrowed, the way he watched just about everything lately. It was maddening, really. Dean was sure there was some _shred _of humanity in Cas—he could see it sometimes in snatches of moments when Cas would let down his guard. But apparently, that shred didn't want to come out in the face of aliens. Or something.

"Doctor?" Donna was close to the Doctor but hadn't put a hand on him yet, probably trying to decide how concerned she should be. She looked over at Dean, and the two of them shared a frowning look before, without a word spoken between them, they each took an arm and led the Doctor to sit down—all while the Doctor protested every second of it.

"I'm _fine_, I'm _fine_," the Doctor said. "Just some nasty psychic feedback, that's all."

"Oh, is that all," Dean said dryly, not letting up on his hold on the Doctor at all.

"Not sure where it's coming from, but yeah, that's all," the Doctor said, rubbing his forehead. He closed his eyes, obviously trying to concentrate, and while he was doing that, Dean took a moment to say hi to an old friend.

"Long time, no see," he said, grinning before he kissed Donna's cheek.

"I see you haven't changed at all," Donna said with a fond smile. "Aside from shooting up about a foot. Do you _ever _stop growing?"

"I'm going to be Godzilla when I grow up," Dean replied without missing a beat.

Donna burst into a laugh. "Oh, I'd love to see that!"

"Right?" Dean was smiling now. He hadn't realized how badly he needed this break from all the crap going down with the angels and demons and their stupid plans to end the world until he suddenly had Donna and the Doctor with him and he realized he missed _teasing _and _playing _and problems as simple as _psychic feedback_. "Only problem is, I think I'd have to hunt myself."

"You shouldn't be hard to find," Donna pointed out. "If you're the size of Big Ben…"

Dean grinned even wider and then spun her around in a hug. "I've missed you, you know that?"

Donna looked surprised by the spinning hug, but she didn't argue with it, either. "I'm surprised you even remember me," she admitted. "Last time I saw you, you were a kid, and…" She trailed off.

"And now I'm very much not," Dean said, the grin turning into something more crooked.

Donna put her hand on her hip, looking amused—which wasn't exactly the reaction Dean had been hoping for. Most girls couldn't hold up against the _look_. "You really haven't changed a bit," Donna said—in the kind of tone that said she was seeing Dean the Kid and not Dean the Grown Man.

Dean shook his head and pushed aside his disappointment. "So," he said, "what about you? What have you and the Doc been up to? You haven't met me and Sam again, so I'm trying to figure out where you are in this whole… mess."

"Time travelers. What a pain, right?" Donna said with a cheeky smile.

"Always," Dean agreed. "How do you cope with him _every _day?"

"Oh, barely," Donna said, looking even more entertained.

"Really," the Doctor broke in, looking perfectly insulted—even if he also still looked distracted by the headache that must have been building behind his eyes, judging by the way he kept rubbing them.

"Dean," Cas broke in, drawing Dean's attention away from flirting—and from the Doctor's headache, "we don't have time for this."

"Sure we do," Dean said. "The Doc's a time traveler. 'We don't have time for this' literally isn't in his vocabulary, right, Doc?"

"That's not actually how it works," the Doctor said with a smile that looked too tired for Dean's liking.

Dean frowned and crossed the gap so he could put a hand on the Doctor's shoulder, dipping his head to catch his gaze. "Seriously, Doc. You don't look so good. You alright?"

"I'm fine," the Doctor said, but when he looked up, Dean saw … he could have sworn he saw _dust _in the corners of the Doctor's eyes.

And all at once, Dean got it.

Before he'd died, he'd had troubles just like that. At the time, he hadn't been able to remember all of it—or even understand it. But once he'd died and been brought back in a body that didn't have any of his old scars or old hurts, the angelic resurrection had also healed the remnants of the weeping angel in his head—along with the memories that had been hidden by Deborah's blessing.

It hadn't happened all at once, of course. He hadn't even _thought _about angels until he met Cas, and everything that had happened since he woke up from the dead had been so much more pressing than a teenage memory of angels that what little he did remember hadn't seemed important. But then, eventually, maybe after a long hunt, he couldn't remember—he'd crashed in a motel room and stared up at the ceiling and got lost in _thinking_ when he was hurting too badly to slip easily into sleep.

And then he'd remembered. He remembered Deborah and Donna and the Doctor and the weeping angels and the _headaches_.

It hadn't seemed important at the time. If anything, it was another annoying reminder that the angels had been interfering in his life. He'd taken forever to go to sleep at the time because he was so caught up in being _frustrated _with all the interference from angels and God and everyone else…

But hey, if he'd had to go through all that just to remember that he and the Doc had met an angel, the least he could do was help the Doctor do the same.

"I think I know what the problem is," Dean said. Then, just to bug his new angelic friend, he added, "It's Cas."


	13. Book Two: Cas, Meet Donna: Chapter Three

**A/N: Sorry about the lengthy wait. And sorry in advance, because it's gonna be a recurring thing. My husband and I adopted a little girl and then two months later found out we were pregnant so... life is crazy right now, and I'm prioritizing my Real Life books.**

* * *

The Doctor's head was spinning.

What he'd tried to play off as "just a little psychic feedback" was turning into something far more worrisome, and at this point, he was going to have to admit it. Especially when he closed his eyes and the next thing he knew, he saw the image of a weeping angel behind his eyelids.

That was strange enough. As far as he knew, he'd only faced the weeping angels once, with the help of Sally Sparrow. And considering every detail she had known about that encounter—and how long she had held on to the information—he was sure she would have told him if _this _was a side effect.

Or maybe she didn't know to tell him, and this was a side effect of the angels' victims. That was possible, he supposed, though he couldn't remember hearing anything about stories of weeping angels crawling in people's heads. They were supposed to be the nicest psychopaths in the universe, killing people slowly. That's what he'd told Martha.

Maybe it was time he reevaluated what he knew and didn't know.

He sat down and heard, through the fog of his headache, Dean trying to explain the situation: "…happened when I was a kid. I mean, coming back from the dead by angelic intervention apparently has its advantages—like losing weeping angel infections and memory blocks all in one blow."

Memory blocks. That would make sense. But still, the Doctor found himself frowning. There weren't many beings in the universe powerful enough to put a memory block in him that he didn't notice. Sure, he and his people were only low-level telepaths, but he was aware of his mind.

Or, well, at least, he tried to be. Maybe he was sometimes preoccupied with other things. And maybe he was getting old enough now that his head was too full to pay it much attention. He'd lived so long and seen so many things that he was even lying about his age now, like a vain old man trying to have a mid-life crisis well beyond the middle of his life.

Alright, so maybe he wasn't as good about keeping his mind as uncluttered as he would have liked. But he still felt like he should have noticed something as big and important as a memory block!

The Doctor sighed and forced his attention back to the present—and the ongoing conversation:

"…had to go back in time to get Donna out, and let me tell you, crossing my own timeline was _weird_. I thought the Doc was going to lock me in the TARDIS when he realized my mom was there," Dean was telling Cas, and when the Doctor focused, he could see that Cas was frowning deeper and deeper the more he heard of Dean's story.

"If that were the case, I can see why an angel felt the need to step in," Cas said. He wasn't human—the Doctor could see that much easily enough—and he had a way of speaking human words that told those around him that he was measuring each one. "Your fate is vital to the War; nothing can be allowed to change your past _or _your future."

"There you go again," Dean said, obviously annoyed. "I already told you—"

"Perhaps we can have this argument at a time when your friend is not so near collapse," Cas suggested, gesturing toward the Doctor.

"No, no, don't mind me," the Doctor said, waving off the looks that all three of them were now giving him. "Go on. You were complimenting my friend while also trying to railroad him into something he clearly doesn't want. That doesn't sound like it'll backfire on you or anything."

"See? The Doc gets it!" Dean said triumphantly.

"No, he really does not," Cas said, narrowing his eyes toward the Doctor—though not in anger. No, he was working something out, his head tilted to the side. The Doctor could read the body language signs and knew exactly what _plotting _looked like.

Dean waved his hand. "Don't listen to Cas," he told Donna. "He gets his wings knotted when people mess with the Divine Plan or whatever."

"Dean," Cas said in such a tone of longsuffering that the Doctor knew instantly that Dean had known better than to be dismissive and did it anyway just to get a rise out of Cas.

"Hey, I call it like I see it," Dean said.

"Dean," Cas said. It really was amazing how simply changing his tone could change the way Dean reacted. The Doctor might have been distracted, but even fighting a bad headache, he could see the way Dean straightened up and lost his teasing smile. It wasn't the same way he straightened up when he spoke to or dealt with his father; this was different. This was borne out of respect and trust—which in itself was surprising, since Dean Winchester didn't trust easily, and it had sounded like Cas was trying to pressure him into something he didn't want to do. "I believe I know what is wrong with your friend."

"Yeah, so do I," Dean pointed out. "Or weren't you listening?"

Cas smirked, the expression nearly foreign on his face and looking like he hadn't meant to do it. "I somehow doubt that you would like me to heal him by sending him to Hell and then dragging him back."

"Would you though?"

"No."

"Didn't think so," Dean said, shaking his head. "So start making sense, Cas."

"I _am _making sense; you're just being infuriating."

"Alright, boys, you two can find a room later," Donna cut in, shaking her head at Dean and Cas—and apparently shocking them both into silence. Which was also telling. For the two of them to have such an easy relationship and not know how it looked…

Then again, the number of times he and Donna had been mistaken for a couple…

The Doctor smirked. Ah well. They'd figure it out.

In the meantime, Cas had stationed himself in front of the Doctor, frowning hard as he considered what to do before he simply reached forward and placed his hands on either side of the Doctor's head. "This won't take long," he promised.

"Bedside manner, Cas. You're supposed to say it won't hurt," Dean said, though he was frowning. "What're you doing?"

"Erasing the ties that should never have been there."

"English, Cas."

Cas sighed but didn't remove his hands from the Doctor's head—and for the Doctor's part, he didn't pull away either. He could already recognized the posture and the light telepathic touch; angels, whatever they were, had powers that he could at least recognize among those that he hadn't yet figured out. "It means," Cas said, "I'm going to rid your friend of the weeping angels' interference. Now, let me concentrate."

Cas closed his eyes, and so did the Doctor. He could feel the familiar sensation of a mind reaching out to his, and on instinct, he reached out as well—which turned out to be a mistake.

As soon as the Doctor's mind, filled with war and Time itself, met the angelic force filled with obedience and God's plan, the two telepathic presences overwhelmed each other. And an instant later, both Cas and the Doctor were unconscious.


	14. Book Two: Cas, Meet Donna: Chapter Four

**A/N: Hello, my darlings. Thank you thank you thank you for your support and reviews. They make my stressed-out-mom-brain happy :D**

* * *

As an angel of the Lord, there were few things in Heaven and Earth that could surprise Castiel.

Dean Winchester was one of those things. He was a constant puzzle to Castiel, pushing against God's plan when he should have embraced his role. Yes, humans had been put on the Earth to be tested, to find their free will and use it to choose sides—God or the devil. But he had never met anyone who used that precious gift in such a self-defeating way.

_How _it made sense to go against God and expect to win was beyond Castiel's comprehension. And he was an _angel_. He was supposed to comprehend the mysteries of the world.

Yes, Dean Winchester was one of the surprises Castiel had encountered since he had moved out of a passive role in Earth's affairs into a more active one. That was a given at this point. And now, this Time Lord was a second surprise.

In hindsight, Castiel _shouldn't _have been surprised by the vast knowledge and secrets locked away inside the mind of a Time Lord. While Castiel knew much about Heaven and Earth, Heaven only had jurisdiction over humanity. Other species had their own heavens and hells, their own gods, their own beliefs. And so, there was no reason for an angel to know anything about other life forms—except when they crossed humanity.

The angels as a whole knew _of _the Doctor, of course. He had interfered in Earth's affairs often enough to be a known entity. He wasn't considered dangerous, not really, because his interference often led to Earth's liberation from outside forces. He was, however, considered to have the _potential _for danger, especially since he had an affinity for humanity that could get in the way of the plans for the Apocalypse.

However, it was one thing to know _of _someone and another thing entirely to _know _someone.

The first thing Castiel was struck by was the pure _despair _he could feel emanating from the Doctor. It permeated every inch of his consciousness—an awareness of his guilt in destroying his people, a heaviness when he thought of the war he had seen and the loss he had endured. That despair seeped into every piece of the Doctor's being, influencing his decisions.

It occurred to Castiel in that moment that such a being would oppose the end of the world with every fiber of his being, refusing to lose one more home, even if it was not the place where he'd been born. And this… this would be a problem.

And yet Castiel couldn't help but sympathize. It was completely understandable that the Doctor would feel this way. And it made perfect sense that Dean would be friends with this alien. Castiel could only hope that the Doctor wouldn't turn around and infect Dean even more with an anti-Apocalypse outlook. Castiel already had his work cut out for him, after all.

At the same time that Castiel was flooded with the Doctor's essence, he could feel his own essence similarly flooding the Doctor. His long life, his knowledge of his purpose, of God's Plan… Perhaps the Doctor could learn something from that and help win Dean over. If he could only see that this was what was _best _for the world…

Ah, but then, that _would _be a miracle.

Finally, Castiel was able to focus through the fog of being lost in the Doctor's essence to remember what he was there for. The centuries that had stretched before him and the ramifications of the Doctor's positions had distracted him, and that on its own was enough to surprise Castiel. He was an angel; he was supposed to be perfect.

Castiel really was getting too distracted by Dean Winchester and his ongoing _stubbornness_. It was becoming a problem.

He pushed aside his peripheral concerns and instead focused on combing the Doctor's consciousness for the source of the problem. The temptation to explore the Doctor's mind was strong, but he was an _angel_. He wasn't _supposed _to be tempted. And besides, he had already indulged himself long enough. If he had _truly _kept himself unspotted from temptation, he would have gone right to the problem without even the briefest pause of exploration.

Earth and the Winchesters were making him soft; that much was increasingly clear. And that simple fact bothered him more than Castiel could say.

Still, he knew he would lose the Winchesters' trust entirely if he didn't do anything to help the Doctor, so he pressed forward until he found the weeping angels' presence in the Doctor's mind. It was subtle and well-contained, and he couldn't help but smile when he saw the telepathic protections in place. He recognized instantly what angel had stepped in to save the Doctor's mind. No one but Deborah did work like that.

It had been a long time since Castiel had seen any sign of Deborah. She had chosen to Fall years ago, which was not very long in the lifespan of an angel but long enough to grow into a person with their own ideas and choices and beliefs in human years. Because she was Fallen, he wasn't supposed to look for her, but he had always wondered what had happened, what had made her decide to Fall when they were so _close _to the final victory.

Seeing her fingerprints in the Doctor's mind, though, and hearing the story Dean had to tell about what had happened with the weeping angels, Castiel was starting to get an idea of what had happened. The Winchesters were a force unto themselves, and so was the Doctor. Both at once to an angel who didn't have enough background to resist the temptation… Well. Castiel could understand it. He'd felt the same temptation, the same desire for _choice_.

Not that he _approved _of Falling, of course. But he was coming to understand it a little better.

He pushed aside thoughts of Deborah and Falling and traced over her work in the Doctor's mind. Her miracle was excellent; it had just cast too wide a net. The weeping angel was escaping because there were too many other memories tied up in the adventure the Doctor had shared with Dean. She couldn't have hoped to keep all of those memories contained at once.

This would have been easier if the Doctor had simply regenerated, because the process would purge the weeping angel as well. But Castiel had come to expect that every task on Earth would be more difficult than necessary. Earth was like that.

But he didn't have to worry about an entirely new miracle, so he could instead refine the focus on Deborah's. That would also work.

Castiel concentrated until Deborah's careful handiwork was concentrated only on the weeping angel _itself_, not on the memories associated with it. It was hard work, and he felt drained and exhausted after the fact, but the angel was contained—better than it had been before, anyway.

He was too tired to look around the Doctor's mind anymore, either, so he backed out of the telepathic connection, even taking a few steps back in the physical world as he recovered his senses and nearly backed into Dean.

"Woah, hey, Cas," Dean said, catching him at the elbow. "You alright?"

In an unguarded moment, Castiel almost smiled at the simple gesture of concern and care. Humans could be so multifaceted—Dean in particular. He could go from fighting to gentleness in the blink of an eye.

Maybe that was why Castiel was so fascinated by him.

"I'm fine," Castiel said, straightening up. "The Doctor's mind is simply a maze."

"I could have told you that," Dean said, though he still looked concerned as he glanced between the Doctor and Castiel. "So… what's the story?"

"I fixed the shield he had before," Castiel explained. "He should be able to remember all of it freely. He simply won't remember the immediate reason for what happened—namely, that the weeping angel entered his mind. He'll understand it as an infection, nothing more."

Donna frowned. "Are you sure—"

"He'll be fine," Castiel said, even as the Doctor reached out to put a hand on Donna's arm, confirming what Castiel was saying. But he was tired, and he needed some space to think about everything he had seen—and to consider what he would even _say _to his superiors that wouldn't bring some calamity down on the people (and alien) before him. So, he let out a breath, tipped his chin up—and simply vanished before anyone could ask him any more questions.


	15. Book Two: Cas, Meet Donna: Chapter Five

"So… it's always like this with you, isn't it?" Donna was watching the spot where Dean's friend Castiel had disappeared, shaking her head at the situation. She hadn't specified which of the men she was talking to, but they both seemed to think she was addressing them:

"Pretty much," Dean said.

"It seems to be the case," the Doctor said, rubbing his forehead with a distracted look on his face.

Dean and the Doctor both glanced at each other and smirked before Dean asked, "How you feeling?"

"Everything seems to be working," the Doctor assured him, even going so far as to move his arms and legs as if that was any kind of reassurance when the problem had been with his _head_. "Other than a lingering psychic headache from the feedback of your friend's telepathic touch, I think I'll live."

"What did he do, anyway?" Dean asked, offering the Doctor a hand up.

"Oh, the psychic equivalent of a good old-fashioned tune-up," the Doctor said easily. "One part starts acting up, the light flashes, and ding, Bob's your uncle, you've got an angel in your head with a telepathic screwdriver to see what the problem is."

"I don't think that explained anything at all," Dean said dryly.

Donna laughed. "He likes to think he's so clever by talking in circles."

"Oh, is _that _why he and Sammy get along so well?" Dean asked in mock surprise. Then, when the Doctor gave both of them a dry look and an "oy," Dean grinned over at him. "Seriously. What happened?"

"A meeting of the minds," the Doctor said. "Literally. Your friend and I met on the psychic plane, took stock of each other, and then he found where the problem was and erected shiny new barriers to contain whatever's in there." He tapped the side of his head. "I've had worse in there, believe you me."

"Why does this not surprise me," Donna said dryly. It seemed like every time the Doctor revealed something about himself, it was some new mystery or trauma. The guy needed about nine hundred years of therapy, in her opinion—but traveling time and space and saving people seemed to work just as well, so she wasn't going to complain.

"Actually," the Doctor said, looking toward Dean, "I learned a few interesting things about your angelic friend while we were sharing each other's thoughts."

Dean leaned forward, his eyes sparkling with interest. "Oh?"

Donna only _barely _kept back her delighted smile and the laugh that wanted to come with it. Better to let Dean figure this out on her own, she figured. Even if his interest—in more than just a professional sense—was written all over his face. "Spill, Doctor," she ordered.

The Doctor met Donna's gaze with only a whisper of the smirk that she expected from him—since she was fairly certain he could see the same obvious interest she could—and then looked back to Dean, perfectly serious. "You're welcome to join me and Donna," he said. "Let Heaven and Hell or whatever they want to call their respective dimensions fight their war some other way with some other _vessel_." He said that last word with revulsion, his features twisting. "Sam's welcome aboard too, you know."

Donna frowned, losing her good mood entirely. She should have known that Dean would find someone to interest him who was only interested in using him in return. She didn't have the whole story yet, but the way the Doctor said "vessel" had her already considering pounding Castiel the next time she saw him.

The truth was: she was more than a little protective of Dean—and had been ever since she'd met him when he was so young she was his babysitter. It seemed like every time she met him, he'd found some new way to get beaten down, and she was starting to get sick of it.

She was honestly worried that he was going to end up like the Doctor: full of a quiet rage that spilled out despite his best efforts. And since Donna didn't see Sam around, she knew she had to tell Dean the same thing she'd told the Doctor on too many occasions: "You don't need to be alone."

Both Dean and the Doctor turned to face Donna, and Donna quickly realized that she hadn't actually articulated her train of thought. She must have sounded like she was offering Dean reasons to stay aboard the TARDIS—though now that she thought of it, she wouldn't mind being there for him. She just wondered if she'd be able to keep up looking after _two _high-maintenance boys.

"I do alright," Dean assured her with a cocky, crooked smile. "Plus, I've usually got Sam around. I don't actually need a babysitter," he added, and she couldn't help but smirk at his teasing tone.

"Not what I was proposing," she shot back.

"Or propositioning?"

Donna laughed at the suggestive way Dean waggled his eyebrows—and then at the look of intense longsuffering on the Doctor's face. "Flirt!"

"Wasn't a no," Dean pointed out.

"Stop it," the Doctor said in a warning tone, but Dean's smile only grew.

"Heard that before."

"Then you'd think you'd be used to it."

"I am; you'd think _you'd _be used to it," Dean shot back without missing a beat.

"He's got you there," Donna agreed, not even bothering to hide her laughter. Every time she and the Doctor met up with Dean, she was further and further convinced that having him aboard the TARDIS would be the definition of fun. Not many people could keep up with the Doctor—she knew from experience—and it was always fun watching people take him down a peg. Or twenty.

The Doctor shook his head before he turned to Dean, meeting Dean's gaze so Dean could understand how serious he was. "I mean it. I'm sure the TARDIS can figure out how to avoid extradimensional beings bent on bringing Armageddon to your world. Should be simple enough for her, actually—and it could save you and your brother a lot of heartache."

Dean tipped his head to the side and narrowed his eyes, a sure sign that he was actually _considering _the Doctor's offer and not just confidently brushing it aside. Even Donna could see the intense concern in the Doctor's eyes, and he was looking at Dean, not her. That kind of care could get _anyone _thinking.

Still, even Donna could have predicted Dean's answer: "I can't go anywhere without Sam."

"I wouldn't expect anything less. The offer has always been for both of you to come with me," the Doctor said evenly. "Where is he?"

"We were on a hunt before Cas showed up and zapped me somewhere else to talk. He's doing some research—shouldn't take too long for me to find him again." Dean held up his cell phone. "You mind?"

"Not at all," the Doctor said, gesturing for Dean to do what he needed to do.

Donna watched Dean leave and waited for him to get into what looked like an animated conversation with Sam before she slid over to the Doctor, both eyebrows high on her head. "So… are you going to tell me what's going on or not, Space Man?"

The Doctor pressed his lips together, let out his breath, and then nodded once, sharply. "Castiel and the other angels are trying to convince Dean to let them use his _body_ so they can fill it with their leader and fight a war between Heaven and Hell. Sam is being recruited for the other side. It's an invasion in every sense of the word—privacy, autonomy, you name it. And they're trying to dress it up like it's all inevitable and the boys should just let it happen."

Donna pulled a horrible face. "You're right," she said. "Let's kidnap them."

The Doctor laughed outright. "Oh, is that what we're doing?"

"Isn't it?"

The Doctor laughed again and then gestured with one hand toward Dean. "Let's just see what he says, shall we?"


	16. Book Two: Cas, Meet Donna, Chapter Six

**SHOUTOUT TO LADYDUNLA FOR LETTING ME KNOW MY POST-PARDUM BRAIN PUT THIS CHAPTER ON THE WRONG STORY. FIXED IT NOW.**

**A/N: So, I had this whole rant about how I don't appreciate getting swearing in my inbox over shipping when I'm writing a story that is NOT a romance and that acknowledges multiple ships, including but not limited to Dean flirting with every single one of the Doctor's companions and sleeping with River Song and has Donna seeing an interest in Cas because, let's be frank, lots of people see it and I'm gonna acknowledge that the same way I'm playing with every other possible ship… but then I got some very nice reviews and had a baby, and it's just not worth hijacking my chapter to tell the crazies to step back. I'll just say that I'm not here for shipping wars in a story that I've put literally years into. Doesn't make me want to take time away from my newborn to write, y'know?**

***sigh***

**Anyway…**

As soon as Sam saw the big blue police box on the horizon, he started to shake his head, though he didn't say anything until he had caught up to Dean and shoved his brother in the shoulder. "I should have known you'd find trouble as soon as I turned my back."

"Yes, because of the two of us, _I'm _the high-maintenance one," Dean shot right back, shoving Sam at the shoulder as well. "You look like crap, by the way."

"That's what happens when your brother ditches you in the middle of a hunt."

"That doesn't sound like something I'd do."

"Sure."

Dean smirked, but now that they'd gotten the hellos more or less out of the way, Sam could see the shift in his brother as he tipped his head toward the Doctor and Donna, who were both grinning as they watched the two of them interacting. "So," Dean said, dropping his voice to something softer and more serious, "what do you think?"

"I think it's not the first time he's offered."

"I know."

"And I think if it was that simple, someone would have stepped in to keep us _far _away from the guy by now," Sam continued.

Dean raised an eyebrow and then pointed toward his own head. "Someone like an angel who erased my memories of the last time the Doc and I ran into angels?"

"Doesn't count," Sam said without missing a beat—he and Dean had already had this argument anyway, but it was easier to tease his brother than to discuss in front of the Doctor and Donna whether they'd stick around. If they did _that_, then their audience would try to have input, and the Winchester brothers didn't make decisions for anybody but themselves.

"Sure, Sammy."

Sam smirked, then tipped his head toward the Doctor. "He's not going to take it well, you know."

"Neither is Donna."

"Yeah, your babysitter is protective," Sam teased.

"Kinda nice to have a sexy protective babysitter all my own when I'm old enough to do something about it, huh?" Dean said, grinning wider and wider with every single word.

"Seriously, Dean?"

"Like you weren't thinking it."

"I _wasn't_."

"Your loss, then."

Sam shook his head as he turned back to the Doctor and Donna, who were respectfully letting the two of them have their teasing conversation without trying to push them into a decision, even if the Doctor was bouncing on the balls of his feet, switching which foot he was putting the most weight on with every movement.

Sam wasn't sure how he felt about the Doctor's obvious nerves. On the one hand, it was nice to see him _caring _enough to not only make the offer of travel but put forth that kind of emotional energy. On the other, it was such a stark difference to the Doctor's response to Dean's deal with Hell that Sam didn't trust it. It didn't matter to him that Dean had come back; the Doctor had still refused to help them avoid his death in the first place.

Hell had changed Dean. There was no denying it. And while Sam was aware of all the changes _he'd _been through as he drifted closer and closer to Hell and his own destiny he was trying to fight, he wanted to shield his brother from what had happened. Dean had already been through enough; he shouldn't have been forced to suffer in Hell.

Before Sam had met an angel, he'd believed in a fair and just God, and he hadn't been able to reconcile that belief with what had happened to his big brother. Now, he didn't know what he believed anymore—but he knew he believed anyone who had stood aside to let Dean go to Hell didn't deserve his respect, let alone his friendship.

So, he didn't bother to censor himself as he asked the Doctor outright: "What changed?"

As expected, the Doctor stopped all motion and blinked at Sam a few times, obviously trying to place the question in context. "Mmm?" he asked at last, a sound that didn't acknowledge anything when he was waiting for Sam to lay out his cards.

Sam shook his head as he gestured to his brother. "You wouldn't help us before. You said everything was set in stone. And now you're parading around telling us we shouldn't be shoehorned into our destiny. Seems hypocritical."

The Doctor's shoulders fell. "I know it looks that way from the outside," he said gently, but Sam already didn't appreciate his tone.

"It doesn't just _look_ that way."

The Doctor took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I can see it," he explained, still using the same tone of voice that had Sam even more on edge than before. "I can see all the possibilities in Time. I can see what can be changed and what can't, which moments are fixed moments and which ones are fluid."

"That's crap." Sam crossed his arms as the Doctor raised an eyebrow. "It is. You really mean to tell me that my brother _dying _is a fixed point in time, but the end of the world isn't?"

To Sam's surprise, the Doctor drew himself up taller, his eyes flashing with the power that he always tried to contain but never quite managed. "Don't tell me a _Winchester _is admitting defeat to that feathery excuse for a supernatural being," the Doctor said, his voice soft but dangerous. "I've seen the end of the world, Sam Winchester, and it does _not _end because some powerful beings thought Earth would be the right playground for a turf war."

Before Sam could say anything, Dean cut in. "You know, that's actually comforting?" he said. "Kind of like concrete proof that we're right."

"But you just said that Time can be fluid," Sam pointed out. He'd had enough of false hopes to last him a lifetime; he wasn't going to believe that he could outrun the destiny the world was trying to shove into his hands just because the Doctor _said _it was possible.

"Yes, I did, and I see where you're going for this, but that's not the point of what I'm trying to tell you," the Doctor said, both eyebrows raised with his hands out in front of him, gesturing with nearly every word. "I saw the world being overtaken by your sun. It was the first da—Rose and I went together," the Doctor said, pausing just long enough that literally everyone could see the stricken expression on his face.

And yeah, Sam didn't like the Doctor. Didn't trust him as far as he could throw him. But if there was one thing that stayed consistent over everything he'd seen about the guy, everything he knew, it was this: the Doctor wouldn't invoke Rose's name for no good reason.

So, with a sigh, Sam let his shoulders drop and nodded almost imperceptibly. "Let's start with _one _trip. Just so we can hear you out. I'm not promising anything more."

The Doctor lit up with a grin and clapped his hands together. "Well then! Come on, boys and Donna—we've got the whole of Time to find _something _fun to do!"


	17. Book Two: Cas, Meet Donna, Chapter Seven

**A/N: Quick updates because of the snafu on the previous one ;) **

"Geez, Doc, what do you do when you're_ not _trying to impress someone?"

The Doctor grinned wildly as he stepped backwards out of the TARDIS so he could watch the expressions on his companions' faces. This was the best part. This was_ always_ the best part. This was why he traveled with friends. The look of awe.

The universe was wonder and hope and terror all wrapped up in a bow waiting for someone to tear it open and find out what was inside, like a cosmic Christmas morning every time he walked out the doors of the TARDIS. And sharing that feeling with others was what made Christmas. Or what made exploration. Or... he'd lost track of the metaphor somewhere but the point was that the universe was amazing and he loved to see people realize it.

He'd asked the TARDIS to find something memorable, something that, if no logical arguments would appeal to the Winchesters, would have to be enough to get them hooked. He had seen it when they were boys and could see it now: they both had the itch, the unstoppable urge to keep moving, keep finding the next adventure. And they could do better for an adventure than transdimensional beings claiming to be angels and demons.

So, the TARDIS has taken them to the planet Demeter, a planet whose orbit around its sun lined up with its planetary rotation so that one side was in perpetual darkness and the other in perpetual light. The side facing the sun was a popular tourist destination, full of leisure palaces with pools and people working on tans. But the dark side was just as breathtaking.

"They call it Demeter," the Doctor explained. "One side for winter and one side for summer."

Both of the Winchesters nodded, though they weren't looking around the planet or its perfectly-formed ice mountains. They were looking up at the sky, and for good reason.

The Doctor's grin got somehow wider as he followed their gaze, his hands in his pockets. All four of them stared up at the nebula above their heads, shining brilliant blues and purples across the perpetual night sky. The complete lack of light pollution meant the nebula looked even closer than it actually was. And every star in the sky looked slightly violet because of how purple the sky was.

"Persephone's Nebula," the Doctor said, still looking up at it alongside the others. "Demeter is always looking up at her daughter, never touching her in her winter of longing."

"Poetic," Sam said without looking away from the light show in the sky. Even someone who had come determined not to change his mind had to stop and stare at the wonder of the infinite.

The Doctor smiled and looked around at his companions. The Winchesters were a matched set, with quiet grins and their hands in their pockets, while Donna was louder about her grin as she hit the Doctor with the back of her hand as if to tell him he wasn't as impressive as what she could see. She kept him on his toes that way. Yes, she had the same awe that he loved to see, but she reminded him that he wasn't part of the universe's majesty.

And yes, sometimes he needed that reminder.

"Seriously," Dean breathed out, "is it like this every time?"

"Yes," Donna put in, grinning. "Yes, it is. And then there's _lots _of running, too."

"That's the fun part," Dean pointed out.

"Of course you'd think so," Donna laughed.

"And you don't?" Dean challenged. "What made you start traveling with him, huh? You get that high when you save someone, right? When you've been through hell and come out the other side dragging someone else out of the flames too?" Something in Dean's expression had shifted, though the Doctor didn't think he was aware of it. "Because when you're not with him, you don't always get those better endings, right?"

Donna's expression fell as she watched Dean. "I don't think we're having the same conversation anymore," she said in a tone that the Doctor had only ever seen her use with Dean. Something about having helped raise him when he was too young to remember her well turned her softer.

Dean shrugged, trying to look careless. "Metaphor was wrong, that's all."

"Ooh, right. Demons and angels and all that." Donna made a face. "No thank you. Every time I run into one, including the spacey kind, _he _ends up moping for days." She gestured toward the Doctor, who scoffed and drew himself up.

"I don't _mope_."

"You do," Donna insisted. "You do, and then you try to find someplace _exciting _to take your mind off of things, and then we end up in _Pompeii_."

"Pompeii?" Sam repeated, finally joining the conversation and looking like he couldn't _help_ but be interested in such a big part of history. "You took her to Pompeii?"

"In my defense, I was aiming for Rome."

"Aim was a little off there, Doc," Dean laughed.

"It always is," Donna said. "He only _says _he knows what he's doing. But really, he's just flinging himself around the universe in his big wooden box and hoping he sticks somewhere fun."

"Hey," the Doctor protested, "you _just said _that all our trips are as brilliant as this one." He gestured toward the view they'd all been enjoying just moments ago.

"And I also said that they involved _a lot _of running," Donna said, her eyes sparkling as she looked toward Dean. "Poor thing needs constant reassurance."

"It's a big job," Dean agreed, and his grin was so wide that the Doctor didn't have the heart to tell them to stop it. The Winchesters seemed to have lost so much of the light that the Doctor had seen in them when they were little boys, and that light only got dimmer with age. That was true of most humans, but with Dean and Sam, it was different. Distressing. So, yes, the Doctor was willing to be the pinata so long as some of that joy came back.

But while Dean was laughing easily, something else was going on just behind Sam's eyes. The Doctor wasn't sure what it was until Sam spoke up: "So you're not always one hundred percent sure where you'll end up. That fits what I've heard about you."

When the Doctor turned Sam's way, Dean spoke up in the protective-but-proud tone that the Doctor had heard even when they were kids. "That's Sam. Always doing research."

"For good reason," Sam pointed out, though he was still looking toward the Doctor. "And I'm getting pretty good at recognizing when something is all flash and temptation but no guarantees."

The Doctor nearly lost a step. "That's—that's not a fair comparison," he spluttered, unable to come up with a witty retort when he _knew _what Sam was referencing.

"Sure," Sam said flatly but without dropping the Doctor's gaze.

"Oh-kay," Dean said, stepping in between the two of them. "I think he gets the point, Sammy." Then, he turned to give the Doctor more of his attention. "He's not wrong, you know. You want to run away from the problem and hope you don't ever end up on Earth again where we'd be within reach of angels and demons—_and _hope that their influence doesn't spread beyond Earth. That's a lot to stake a retreat on."

The Doctor sighed and let his shoulders drop, disappointed but not entirely surprised by the boys' outlooks. "And the Winchesters don't know the meaning of retreat."

"Hey," Dean said, one finger pointed at the Doctor's chest. "We don't run from fights and leave other people to clean up the mess. These guys, these angels and demons, they'll do _anything _to get the fight they want. And if we're the ones they're after, that means we're the ones that can throw a monkey wrench right in the middle of their plans for the Apocalypse." He smiled grimly. "They picked the wrong family to mess with."

"A tactical retreat would be—"

"Doc," Dean cut in with a sharp look that told the Doctor exactly how closed the conversation was.

The Doctor sighed, then set his shoulders, all at once deciding that he wasn't going to fight them—this time. "Right then," he said, striding forward, "if we're here to sightsee, I say let's get a closer look."


End file.
